


Beautiful Disaster

by kaliebee



Series: Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen, Murder, Non-Graphic Rape, one hell of a stand-off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-04 17:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaliebee/pseuds/kaliebee
Summary: Y/N was seven years old when she watched her parents’ slaughter.





	Beautiful Disaster

Y/N was seven years old when she watched her parents’ slaughter.

The murderer had killed her mother first, slashed her throat and licked the blood dripping down her chest. 

Her father wouldn’t stop yelling and she couldn’t say a word from where the woman had pushed her in the closet, told her to stay there for the show. Y/N couldn’t look away, watched her mother’s last moments with wide eyes and a scream stuck in her throat. 

A gurgled cry escaped her father’s lips as he was murdered more viciously than her mother. Y/N couldn’t watch as her father was stabbed over and over  _ and over and over  _ and she threw up all over herself, not making a sound besides her retching.

Then the murderer was crouching in front of her, a light voice whispering  _ you’re okay, sweetheart, you’re safe now  _ through a mask like the kind Mary wore in the movie Another Cinderella Story, one of her favorite movies at the time. The murderer grabbed her arm, pulled her close and she sobbed as the woman ran her hand through her hair, whispering things that would have been comforting in a normal circumstance. But this wasn’t normal, and she was standing in her own vomit and her parents were feet away in pools of blood and she was grieving her parents in their killer’s arms and she looked up at the woman and whimpered  _ I don’t wanna leave them, please. _

The murderer whispered something that echoed with Y/N until she was in the situation again all those years later:  _ Oh baby, you look beautiful. _

And then she was crying as the woman touched her in places a little girl should never be, and the woman was murmuring quietly, her voice becoming more and more strained until finally she stopped moving, heaving an enormous sigh. Within minutes she was alone and the murderer was slipping out the window, leaving her to curl into a ball on the closet floor to cry until the babysitter showed up the next morning and woke her up with a piercing scream. She didn’t speak again after that night.

_ ~o~ _

Years pass and Y/N finds herself in an apartment that doesn’t belong to her, focusing her gun on the woman she detests with every fiber of her being as agents hover around her, their own guns trained on her. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this,” Agent Morgan says, voice gentle. As if him being quiet will calm her. 

She ignores him, instead glaring at the older man with salt-and-pepper hair just feet away. She remembers him; the big, tough FBI agent who told her that they’d find the woman who took away her mommy and daddy, who took away her innocence.  _ You’ve done your job just a tad too late,  _ she thinks to herself, a bitter smile dancing across her chapped lips. Agent Rossi, the one person she depended on to find their murderer, her rapist. Agent Rossi, the man who failed in epic proportions, allowing this woman to kill hundreds of parents and molest just as many children over the years. 

Rossi looks almost chagrined at her glare, glancing away from her for a moment before looking back and steadying his gun. Y/N decides she hates him just as much as this bitch in front of her.

A smaller, lithe agent takes a step closer, her blonde ponytail bouncing. Agent Jareau, she notes, remembering the woman from her files. “We know why you killed those other people, Y/N.”  _ Obviously, or else you wouldn’t be here and she’d already be dead.  _ “We know how they were all killers, and how they all knew that Jessica was a serial killer.”

She can’t help it, she stiffens at the sound of the killer’s name. She’s known it for almost a month now, but not once has she heard it aloud since she tortured it out of her fourth victim, the last one. Well, until today.

Y/N can feel the woman shaking under her hand, hear the cackles escaping her mouth. She tunes the agents’ voices out, focuses on how she’s feeling. Waits for the inevitable feeling of regret, of fear, of excitement.

She feels nothing except the rage bubbling up in the pit of her stomach.

She can’t help the ragged gasp that slips through barely parted lips as she silently begs for some sort of emotion to ravage her, to prove that she’s still human. 

It doesn’t.

“Let her go, Y/N.” Agent Reid’s voice pulls her away from her thoughts as she looks up, meets his eyes. She doesn’t bother to disguise her barely hidden contempt, instead lifting her chin, allowing her finger to tighten on the trigger. One quick movement and she could easily blow her tormentor’s brains out. “You let her go and she’ll be taken to jail, tried for all those murders. Tried for your  _ parents’  _ murders. She’ll never be released, she’ll have to stay there until she dies.”

She briefly wonders how the numerous agents around her would react if she whined “ _ But I want her dead now!”  _ like she’s thinking. Pretty weirded out, probably. Would probably think she has a mental illness. 

Does she?

Most likely, if she’s being honest with herself.

Thus far she’s ignored her captive’s endless laughter, but then she hears her actually  _ speak  _ and her stomach tightens. “Kill me, Y/N. Prove that you’re a killer, just like me. A fuck-up, disaster, a hurricane that rolls through and destroys everything in her path.” Her heart stops at the idea that she and this  _ monster _ are the same. Her arm loosens, just the slightest, but the killer takes advantage of it and spins around, facing Y/N. Her face is lit up in delight and Y/N can’t decide whether she’s going to throw up or pass out.

She slips, allowing a ragged breath to escape as she tries to get a handle on the ocean of emotions finally consuming her, trying to drag her down, trying to kill her before she can kill her murderer.

Because god, this woman did kill her all those years ago. 

Y/N presses the gun firmly against her murderer’s head, ignoring the pleas of the agents surrounding her, stares into those dark, dark eyes. And then the woman smiles, lens close and she inwardly shudders at the feeling of their skin touching, but doesn’t flinch. She won’t show anymore weakness in front of her parents’ killer, her own murderer.

The woman’s voice is light, airy and Y/N can feel her hot breath on her ear as she whispers,  _ “You’re quite the disaster, darling.” _

Her finger twitches.

_ ~o~ _

_ A rapid fire succession of bullets. _

_ A gasp of pain. _

_ Tears. _

_ And so, so much blood. _

_ ~o~ _

Agent Derek Morgan lowers his gun, staring at the carnage in front of him. He steps over one body, allowing his foot to drag behind and pierce her ribs, no matter the fact that they were trying to save her moments before.

A wet cough catches his attention and he kneels next to a girl, a girl who he’s only seen in files up until today. The pictures of her from ten years ago don’t do her justice, never could, even now. Even with her hair is a tangled mess, eyes dimmed, lips red as blood bubbles up. “Call 911,” Morgan says over his shoulder as Prentiss comes up behind him, ignoring the fact that he knows there’s no way she’ll survive.

He presses his hands against the holes in her stomach, trying his best to stop the bleeding as Prentiss helps. JJ joins them, sitting on the floor, pulling the girl’s head into her lap. “You’re going to be okay, Y/N, you’re going to be fine. You have to keep fighting, okay?” Her voice cracks and he knows they all went in too deep on this one, let their emotions get in the way. Are still letting their emotions get in the way.

Morgan glances over his shoulder to where Reid’s on the phone with the police. Rossi looks a bit like he’s been sucker punched and Hotch just stands there, looking as stoic as usual, but Morgan can identify the defeat in his stance. 

There’s a croak behind him and he turns back around, looks back at Y/N. Tears leak down her cheeks- just a precious few, the few she’ll allow herself. And then her lips are parting and her bloody hand is grabbing his shoulder, pulling him close to her, and his heart stops as she speaks for the first time in ten years. Her voice is rusty with disuse as she whispers, choked with blood,  _ “Am I beautiful now?” _

And then the light leaves her eyes. Her hand drops. Both he and Prentiss slowly pull their hands back, staring at the dead seventeen-year-old murderer in front of them. The room is silent. He briefly wonders if all the air in the apartment has been stolen away because that can be the only reason he can’t breathe.

_ “Oh baby, you look beautiful.” _

Morgan starts at the sound of Reid’s voice, all small and hurt and filled with sorrow while simultaneously sounding like a recording. “What?”

“In the file. That’s- that’s all she said, over and over when the babysitter found her. She was out of it, just babbling that sentence.  _ Oh baby, you look beautiful. _ ”

Rossi steps forward, bends down next to the girl’s body. “It was her final act of defiance. That was what Jessica made her. She chose Y/N for her beauty, but in the process, took the same thing away from her.”

Morgan stares down at the girl, this Avenging Angel, as the media had been calling her. “She didn’t deserve this.”

No one disagrees. Morgan stares into her wide, glassy eyes for a moment before finally shutting them. Maybe now she could finally get some peace.


End file.
